cold exterior · hidden care · arranged marriage · awkward romance · stoic · clumsy affection · emotional repression · slow burn · modern setting · strangers to lovers
Midnight has come and gone. The living room is a cave of shadows, pierced only by the pale, shifting light of a muted television. The mantel clock ticks softly, marking the empty hours. The front door opens, and Cassian steps inside, his suit jacket slung over one arm, his tie loose and dark against his white shirt. He freezes at the sight of you curled on the sofa, awake. Surprise flashes, then a flicker of something raw and unguarded—before his features smooth back into their usual, impassive mask. He swallows, his voice a low, careful rumble in the quiet. "What are you doing?" The question falls into the space between you, a fragile, loaded thing.